Awkward
by Lunar Serenade
Summary: He was Zacharias Barnham, a knight of the Inquisition, one of the youngest to reach such a high ranking, a knight who faced witches without a single fear. Yet all his knightly training could not prepare him to deal with someone quite like Darklaw. Say hello to awkward Barnham. (Barnham x Darklaw)


_summary; he was Zacharias Barnham, a knight of the Inquisition, one of the youngest to reach such a high ranking, a knight who faced witches without a single fear. Yet all his knightly training could not prepare him to deal with someone quite like Darklaw. Say hello to awkward Barnham._

 _characters; Darklaw x Barnham_

* * *

 **Awkward**

 **Barnham x Darklaw**

 _i._

He always had dreams of being a knight.

He blamed it on the numerous books he read, the days he found himself staring out the window and watching them when Miss Primstone was raving about some ridiculous off-textbook lesson.

The Knights of the Inquisition, clad in shining steel, sworn to protect the innocent from any evils that plagued their town. He dreamed that one day that he could join their ranks and do the same, be that strong, dependable man, to be the one that saves the damsel in distress and slay a dragon.

(Though he knew better. Dragons were silly, born from fairy tales. He'd settle for fighting witches at least.)

And one day, he did it. After much training, hoping, _dreaming_ , he finally did it. He finally became a part of the Knights of the Inquisition.

And he certainly made himself a name. He rose through the ranks quickly, praised a talent, a natural. It was easy to keep himself humble when such remarks were followed by comparisons to the High Inquisitor.

It surprised many that he hadn't met her yet, but considered him lucky. The way they painted her was almost mythical, like they were describing a monster from their darkest nightmares or some other creature summoned by Bezella herself to damn them. She was ruthless, cold, a true force to be reckoned with – and that was as long as that person remained on her good graces. One word could destroy even the strongest of men, and they swore a single look could slay anyone right on the spot.

They said as fortunate as he was, his luck wouldn't last. The way he was going, he had to meet her one day whether he liked it or not.

And he'll admit his curiosity – he had never heard anyone strike so much fear and respect into their Order as she did – but contented himself with the thought he'd find out one day. There was no rush. He had much more important things to deal with than to worry about such a demonic woman.

But that day came sooner than he expected.

Standing outside that door, he felt a nervous sweat drip down the base of his neck. He feared no man, no witch, no creature of the shadows, but he actually felt genuine fear at the thought of meeting with the High Inquisitor.

Many of his fellow knights tried advising him when they heard the news. Don't look her straight in the eye, some said. Wait to be spoken to. Don't say anything out of turn. Don't even go through the door and just run while he could.

He had his expectations after hearing all this, preparing for the worst. Someone of such high rank would be older, jaded from her years of witch hunting and burning. Her face gray, wrinkled, hair stained with the ash, sharp teeth, smoke escaping her nose and ears...

Now his imagination was running too wild.

He shook his head and steeled himself, gathering what courage he could muster and opened the door.

When he saw her, he nearly stumbled onto the floor.

"I see you have finally arrived." The High Inquisitor raised her gaze from her paperwork, sharp eyes meeting his. "I am High Inquisitor Darklaw."

"Zacharias Barnham," he croaked out.

"Sir Barnham, it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

He nodded his head, keeping his mouth firmly shut, his jaw muscles failing him.

Then there was only silence. They just stared at each other. She sat pristinely still, finger lightly tapping against her desk as she waited.

And for the life of him, he could not utter a word.

When her brow quirked up, he knew right then and there he was making things awkward.

Dear god, why was he being like this. It wasn't like he had never seen a woman before. He knew how to conduct himself around one, especially when that woman was your superior.

Sure, she wasn't what he was expecting. A lot younger than expected, perhaps close to his age. Her eyes were sharp, yes, but they were astute, carrying a sort of maturity he had never seen. And they were so deep, so clear, a sort that he had only seen in his wildest dreams and...

"Inquisitor Barnham."

Her voice, which was as smooth as it was forceful, jarred him out of his trance, a reminder of where he was standing, who he was speaking to.

"Forgive me, Lady Darklaw. I simply was not under the impression the High Inquisitor would be so-" He trailed off a moment, staring at her with wide eyes, before shaking his head and clearing his throat. "So young."

"Is that a problem, Barnham?" she said, raising a critical brow. "I assure you, my youth does not detract from my ability to perform my duties."

 _'And I continue to offend her... Wonderful.'_

He fervently shook his head. "No, my apologies. 'Tis only an observation. Your subordinates speak accolades of your abilities on the battlefield, and I hold nothing, but respect for you."

She stared, appearing almost puzzled by his word choice, before releasing a low breath. "I see. I hope your excellent observational skills also apply to the courtroom." She turned her gaze back down the documents. "I will see you at your trial then. Do not disappoint me."

"You're going to watch the trial?"

She only looked at him, her expression deadpan, not even indulging such a ridiculous question.

 _'And now she thinks me an idiot.'_

Someone please drown him.

"Well then, I swear to make you proud, Lady Darklaw. There will be no witch that will escape my blade of justice!"

He bowed and marched out the door, mentally kicking himself for his apparent idiocy.

He was Zacharias Barnham, a knight of the Inquisition, one of the youngest to reach such a high ranking, a knight who faced witches without a single fear.

Where was that person when he was speaking to her. He acted like an awkward, bumbling schoolboy who had never even seen a girl before. Some first impression he made.

"There's always the trial, Barnham. You can redeem yourself."

It still didn't banish the redness burning his ears, his mind wandering towards the young woman with striking eyes and soft, dark hair.

* * *

 _ii._

 _'Good work.'_

It was just two words. Two damn words. Spoken briefly, in passing, as she left the courtroom without another glance.

It wasn't like he hadn't heard a compliment before. Knights and civilians alike shared kind words with him. As much as he always appreciated it, he never allowed it to go to his head.

But hearing a compliment from her just sent him over the moon.

Thank the heavens almighty that whatever possessed him to act so awkwardly did not occur while he was in court. He was comfortable, at ease, still fighting at his very best.

And whatever he did, it was good enough to gain her acknowledgment.

"Hey, why are you smiling like that for?"

He grunted when a knight wrapped his arm around him. "What happened? Did a pretty girl compliment you or something? About time one caught your eye. You've got so many on your back, some of the other guys were getting jealous."

"It was no one," Barnham said, keeping his cool. "The High Inquisitor simply deigned my performance as adequate. That's all."

Suddenly the arm around his neck disappeared. The knight held him out at arm's length, studying his expression. Barnham only blinked, staring at him in obvious confusion.

The knight clicked his tongue. "Seriously. Of all the goddamn women..." He released him, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "You're still so young, and you have the pick of the lot... and you're interested in her."

Barnham opened his mouth to protest, but the older knight quickly cut him off. "You really have to get that idea out of your head. Sure, I guess she's pretty if you get passed that scary personality of hers, but she's our superior. The High Inquisitor of the land. Think she'd even consider a relationship with one of her boneheaded knights?"

The denial was at the tip of his tongue, ready to defend himself against such accusations.

But as he allowed his words to sink in, he felt his whole body still.

He was right. The fact of the matter was that Darklaw was indeed his superior in every possible way. She would never stoop herself for someone like him, her subordinate, someone who was beneath her in station. Even if she did, it would be a breach in their order, a sort of unprofessionalism that would not be tolerated.

No matter how he looked at it, he never had a chance in the start.

When he released a forlorn sigh, the knight patted his back. "Now that's settled, perhaps you could come out tonight. We could just drink the night away with some of the other fellow knights... and maybe you could try inviting some of those ladies who've been dying to talk to you and..."

"I do not wish for such merriment this evening. Thank you."

Barnham bid him farewell, ignoring the knight's grumbles and worries over how he was going to get the women to go out with them now. He had his own feelings to sort out.

She was his superior and he her subordinate. He had to snuff out these silly infatuations and focus on a working professional relationship.

That was possible. He could do that.

* * *

 _iii._

But goddamn, a professional relationship was challenging at times.

He failed to account for the fact that with his elevated station and proficiency that he would work closely with Darklaw, reporting directly to her or discussing cases with her in person. At least he was able to keep his feelings in check and never let it cloud his own judgment. When he felt he was right, he was unafraid to stand his ground and oppose her. Even when she was infuriatingly stubborn about her own stance on certain issues.

And those fights became legendary in their Order. Whenever they occurred, the others knew to give the two a wide berth, fearing the results if they ever were caught in the crossfires of their fierce verbal matches. In fact, there were numerous times when they had to spend time apart to cool down before deciding upon a proper compromise.

This all had fallen into what was their working normal, involving mostly of work-related duties and witch investigations.

Though that did not deter him from trying to build something beyond that. They could at least be friends, could they not? So in between talks of witches and other disturbances in their peaceful town, he attempted some small talk before leaving her alone.

Such a tactic backfired one day.

"Why do you keep asking?"

He quickly bit his tongue. He noticed her brows furrow together, her gaze sharp, severe.

"Why do you keep asking me how I am doing or if anything is troubling me or anything as asinine as that?"

' _I actually asked about the weather yesterday...'_

But pointing out such trivialities likely wouldn't help his case.

"'Tis merely concern for your wellbeing. You bear great weight as High Inquisitor of the land, and I just would like to assist you if I can." Such words made her expression soften. There were no harsh lines, cold gazes, or tight lips. In fact, it was an expression he had never seen before. It was just wide eyes, her lips slightly ajar.

He swallowed, unsure if such an unusual expression was a good or bad thing.

"I mean, it would not be beneficial if our leader was overwhelmed or troubled. I am considering our Order's wellbeing and function, Lady Darklaw."

"Oh yes... of course. Forgive my rudeness. I am not used to being asked such questions." She took a deep breath and composed herself, tearing her gaze away from him. "I am fine... Thank you for asking."

Such a simple admission made him happier than it actually should. It was the most he ever got from a conversation with her, one that did not involve her totally dismissing him. Maybe she was finally warming up to him.

He quickly looked around the room, trying to find another conversation piece, something else he could talk to her about while he had a chance.

His gaze stopped, focusing on something her desk, something he had never noticed before until today.

"That is a fine pastry." He never noticed her snap her gaze up to see him pull the plate out, just enough for him to have a better look at the eclair.

Despite being fully clad in armor, he winced and swiftly retracted his hand away from the pastry, confusedly turning his gaze to face her.

"This is off limits." As if to emphasize the point, she pulled the pastry closer to her, glaring daggers at him. "Don't even think about touching it. Or else."

"Of course, Lady Darklaw. I should have been more considerate with your belongings," he said, his voice a mixture of confusion and slight annoyance.

"As you should. Now if that is all, you are dismissed." She snapped her head away from him, inordinately protective over her plate.

His brow twitched, but he kept himself in check. He quickly bowed his head and stormed off, inwardly fuming.

Honestly, what was her problem?

There goes any conversational development he thought was occurring.

* * *

 _iv._

Barnham's Wild Ride.

The gravity of the name was only beginning to sink in.

The incident was known as his Wild Ride. Because his horse got spooked by a stupid dog. Because he was hanging off said terrified horse for hours like an idiot. Unless some other, more exciting news occurred, they'll be calling him Bouncing Barnham for weeks on end.

"Dogs are demonic creatures."

"Don't be so dramatic. Dogs are not that bad." The Alchemist said, chuckling at the knight's pouting face. "In fact, you should be grateful that you only sustained minor bruises and scratches. Normal people may have endured a concussion at the very least."

"I would have actually preferred unconsciousness than experience that humiliation." He groaned at the thought, tempted by the thought of smothering his face with his own pillow.

Though his embarrassment seemed to skyrocket when his superior walked through the door.

"I'm assuming he's well?"

He froze, praying the mattress would swallow him whole when Inquisitor Darklaw entered the room.

She paused a moment at the older man, eyes softening, and gave him a respectful bow. "Sir."

"High Inquisitor," he said, nodding his head to her, a smile ghosting his own lips. "But yes. He's much better than expected, but I wish to keep him here for a little while longer for observation."

"That would be wise. A small crowd gathered outside, wishing to speak to him about his 'Wild Ride'." She glanced over to him, giving him a quick once over, and smirked. "Congratulations, Barnham. You are now a celebrity amongst the townspeople."

Oh dear god. Someone please slay him now.

"Is that all you came to see me about, Lady Darklaw? To antagonize me?" he mumbled, resisting the childish urge to hide himself in his own blanket.

She chuckled. "I actually came to check on you. I am glad to see that you are alright."

He nearly shot out of his bed. Did he hear her correctly? Was she actually concerned about him?

She swiftly turned her gaze away, finding interest on a mark on the wall. "Do not think much of it. After all, it would look poorly upon our Order if you truly did get injured, especially under my watch."

It was a professional visit. Of course, it was. But maybe he got knocked a little harder on his head because all he could think of was that she was actually concerned for him, that she came to see him.

He could thank that demon dog for one thing at least.

Though the moment ended when the alchemist loudly cleared his throat.

"I have a handle on him. You probably have other business to deal with, yes?" The Alchemist said sternly, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he walked in between Barnham and Darklaw.

She blinked, perplexed by the older man's behavior, but answered, "Yes, I suppose I should start dispersing the crowd. 'Tis a hazard to have them hanging around your home in such droves." The Alchemist nodded his head in fervent agreement. She turned and glanced in at the knight's direction, "Despite your folly, I expect you at top form. Do not think your incident entitles you to any special treatment."

"Of course. I expect nothing less, High Inquisitor."

She nodded her head, walked forth, and opened the door. She paused a moment and glanced back at him, her grin almost smug.

"And please try not to be scared by other dogs, would you?"

He snorted and refused to deign that comment with a response. He swore he saw her grin softened for a second before steeling herself once again, closing the door behind her.

And after a moment of wondering, he finally noticed the Alchemist staring at him.

"Is there something the matter, sir?" he asked innocently, half afraid he had done something to offend him.

"Nothing. It's nothing." The Alchemist only stared at him, his eyes almost burning through him, before releasing a low huff. "Out of curiosity, you work with her closely, do you not?"

"Of course. Our duties demand it so." Barnham tilted his head slightly. "Is there a reason why you asked?"

The admission seemed to all, but physically wound him. The alchemist rubbed his face, looking at him and glancing over to the door.

"Merely curiosity. Nothing more. Now you just lay there and rest. I need to take a quick walk. Please excuse me."

The Alchemist quickly made his way out the door, distress prominent on his features.

Though Barnham wished he knew what he was distressed about. They were only talking about his work with Lady Darklaw... Nothing that should have been a bother to him. Had their talk triggered something?

He shrugged his shoulders and supposed he will never know.

* * *

 _v._

"Don't ask."

"Don't ask what?"

"I said _do not ask_."

"Oh, you mean don't ask about that scar of yours? Because the guys and I–"

"Do not say another word." Barnham's words were sharp, his gaze glaring deeply into the other knight.

"I mean, we all have our off days, and none of us would judge you if you got beaten up by some punk. No shame at all," he said with a lazy grin. "And what's with that puppy? Never thought that you'd be much of a dog person considering..."

"Do you wish to spar once again?" Barnham's voice carried no inflection, cracking his knuckles.

The knight immediately backed away. "No, I'm good. I've tasted enough dirt for one day."

And the knight clapped Barnham's sweaty shoulder and walked off, leaving him alone and not asking another question. For now.

Barnham released a heavy sigh and wiped his sweaty face, his fingers gently brushing the healing scar on his brow.

There was no explanation necessary. He was taking responsibility for what happened, and that was what mattered. He did not need anyone prying into his situation or harassing the poor pup about the things he went through.

He glanced over towards Constantine, watching him curl tighter into a ball, his back rising and falling with each breath he took. He may be small, but he will be a great knight. They'll all see.

When he felt a presence appear before him, he felt himself snap. "How many times must I say it before you all just drop the matter..."

Then as he turned to face the figure, he felt the words die at his tongue.

"Lady Darklaw, my apologies, I did not mean to speak out of turn," said Barnham, straightening his spine, feeling overly conscious of the sweat and dirt that clung to his skin. "I was unaware you had plans to visit the barracks today."

"I only came in here for a brief moment to follow up on one of your reports. I did not feel announcing my arrival was necessary." Her eyes flickered towards his for a moment before immediately dropping down to a spot on her sleeve. "Perhaps I should have. I hope I did not interrupt your training."

"We are taking a break from training. You need not feel that you're interrupting, Lady Darklaw."

"But your training requires the removal of your armor?"

The question caught him off guard.

"Well, we were practicing hand to hand combat. Armor would only get in the way," he answered simply.

Darklaw only hummed in acceptance, focusing her gaze away, staring at the walls, the floor, her own hands. Anywhere, but him.

He wondered a moment if he looked worse than he thought, but instead asked, "What was it that you wished to speak to me about?"

The question seemed to relax her. Her shoulders lost some tension as she said, "It was about that report you submitted earlier. About the farmer claiming a witch was stealing his crops... You wrote it was not a witch, that now that his crops were safe."

"Which is the truth. I would not lie."

"It's the shortest report you have ever submitted. You're usually very detailed." That made him tense. "And you expressed sustaining mild injuries, and yet not detailing where they originated. If not a witch, who assaulted you? Some rogue bandits? Other unseemly ruffians? I could investigate the matter and bring them to justice..."

"Tis appreciated, but there is no need for that, High Inquisitor." She fell silent. "You must trust me when I say that the matter was taken care of. I have settled the case. No one will antagonize the farmers any further. You have my word and honor as a knight."

She did not utter another word, allowing her gaze to settle on him and the sleeping pup, appraising, pondering, before shrugging her shoulders. "Alright, I'll I suppose I'll allow it. Though if any issues arise, it is on your head."

"Of course, understood." Silence enveloped them, and he noticed she seemed restless, almost fidgeting in her spot. An idea possessed him. "Oh whilst you're here, would you like to watch us train? To make sure we are up to par with your standards."

"That is certainly not necessary." It was spoken with more strength than he expected. She quickly caught herself and cleared her throat, adding more evenly, "I trust you all care for yourselves, and I certainly do need to observe you while you're..."

And her words trailed from her tongue. He only watched, as she stared blankly at his shirtless self before abruptly turning to face the opposite direction. "I actually just recalled I have other business to attend to. Good day."

And without further preamble, Darklaw rushed off, leaving Barnham confused.

"Am I truly that filthy?" He wondered to himself, glancing down at the sweat and dirt on his bare chest.

All the while the knights chuckled and shook their heads, laughing at the poor boy's complete obliviousness, unaware of the way his shirtlessness had affected their cold-hearted superior.

* * *

 _vi._

"Tell me how you got this wound again?" The Alchemist asked, gingerly applying antiseptic to Barnham's arm. "It's strange for you to get this kind of injury if you were wearing your armor."

"I was actually undercover wearing laymen's clothing, investigating a possible witch incident, sir. As I was returning to the barracks, I saw Muggs and Robbs ganging up on a poor man. I jumped in to save him... and withstood mild injuries," he admitted bashfully. "Those idiots managed to get away, but at least the man was safe."

"So you were reckless," he said. "Noble, yet reckless."

"Well I do admit when I saw him in trouble, I didn't exactly think straight," he admitted.

The Alchemist was silent, contemplative, before reaching over towards the bandages. "You are a good man, sir Barnham. You do well for this town."

"As do you, sir. And the High Inquisitor. Both of you do a lot for this town as well."

The mention of his superior gave the alchemist pause.

"Tell me, sir Barnham," the Alchemist said, encircling the bandage around his arm. "What do you think of your superior?"

"Of Lady Darklaw? She's fierce force of nature, a serious, yet fair leader," he admitted. "I hold nothing, but respect for her."

And despite her cold-hearted persona, he still found her eyes the prettiest he had ever seen. Sometimes, if he wasn't careful, he'd just drown in them, completely mesmerized.

But he wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

Though by the contemplative look on the Alchemist's face, the heavy silence, he hoped he wasn't incredibly transparent.

"Of course. Lady Darklaw is someone people should treat respect, especially you, a Knight of the Inquisition. I expect you to Never push her towards anything that may be deemed... unknightly."

What.

Barnham had no idea what he was trying to say. The alchemist ignored the confusion on his face, tightening his bandages with gusto.

"I understand your stations force you two to work closely together, but I expect you to respect her boundaries and to never overstep them in any way possible."

"Of course, sir. As I said I respected her and will continue to treat her as such." He winced. "'Tis tight, is it not?"

"Tighter the better, I always say." He gave his bandages one more tug before letting him be.

And Barnham only sat there in mild confusion. The Alchemist was always a kind, gentle man. He had little idea what caused him to act like this. They were just talking about Darklaw... Nothing that should lead to a near loss of his arm.

So strange.

Though unfortunately as fate would have it, he won't figure out why the man was so concerned for awhile. Especially from his lips.

* * *

 _vii._

All either of them could do was stare. Her eyes were almost uncharacteristically wide, lips parted to release a low gasp.

Though he wasn't surprised by the reception. After all the last time they really spoke to one another was when she locked him up in the dungeons.

He had no idea what to even say to her. Crack a joke that they should consider reinsulating the dungeons since there was a terrible draft? Ask about the weather? No, that never worked before and that certainly won't work now...

"I see that you are wearing your armor."

Her reply was smooth, albeit tense. He watched her slide back to her previous persona, slowly conjuring what she could of the person she worked so hard to build up.

That made things easier.

"Ah, yes, I am. Despite everything, I feel most comfortable with this on," he admitted, tapping lightly on his gauntlets, before sending her a cursory glance. "And you as well. You are still wearing the same attire as before."

"Feels more comfortable," she mumbled, rubbing her hands conscientiously over her arms.

Silence manifested itself once again, filling the awkwardness spreading between them.

"Barnham, I know this is late, but I-"

He quickly cut her off. "There is no need for apologies, milady."

She blinked, an almost innocent, unexpected movement. "There isn't?"

"What's done is done. We cannot change that. What matters is the present, making amends and building this town to be the very best it can be," he said, feeling his lips quirk into a smile. "And I must admit, in retrospect, simply tossing me into the dungeons was lenient for the great crime you had me accused of."

"Yes, I suppose it was," she mumbled quietly to herself, the shame of the memory clear on her face.

He mentally kicked himself. Still too soon for those jokes.

"But you were right about one thing. Before everything happened, I lacked... resolve. I was blinded by my own headstrong feelings, refusing to face the hard facts, the truth of the matter." Emboldened, he allowed himself to face her straight in the eyes. "But not anymore. I swear to strengthen my conviction and dedication in everything I do."

And her reaction was a bit surprising. She dropped her gaze, her voice soft as she spoke, "Well I expect nothing less. After all, I can think of no one else I could rely on in terms of the reconstruction effort."

"Thank you, Lady Darklaw."

"I'm not Lady Darklaw anymore, Zacharias." Her face soft, a smile shyly tugging at her lips. "And I am no longer your superior. Please call me Eve."

"Yes, of course... Miss Eve."

Though something quite strange popped into his mind, catching his attention. It was odd, considering the fact was plain as day and shouldn't have struck him so strongly, but regardless it did.

She was no longer High Inquisitor Darklaw, his superior in every way, unreachable, unobtainable, not even worth his time and breath.

But Eve... she was someone whom he had equal footing with, someone whom he can stand on even ground with as coworkers, as partners.

With Eve, he had a chance.

"Well, I must get going now."

Her voice cut through his slowly escalating euphoria.

"Of course, I look forward to working with you in the near future then."

She nodded her head and rushed off, not even giving him a further passing glance.

Though he didn't think much of it. He was too excited at the opportunity that he could not think of anything else. He turned around, glancing up at Miss Patti's bakery, and smiled.

He said he was going to work on his convictions. And he was going to start working on them right now.

* * *

 _viii_

Though he should have known working on his resolve was going to be harder than he expected.

He started off well. After their meeting, he asked if she could stay awhile longer because he wanted to speak to her about something important. To his good fortune, she agreed and waited.

.

.

.

And waited.

.

.

.

And just as he was going to say something Miss Primstone's words had to pop into his mind.

At that moment. _Of all times._

.

.

He snapped his eyes shut and mentally cursed.

He wasn't even sure if Miss Primstone's lesson was even real, or if he was recalling a jaded woman who spoke too much like her, yet it still affected him.

 _'_ _Goddamnit, why.'_

.

.

.

 _Welcome back, awkward Barnham._

* * *

 _ix._

It had been an hour. He made her wait an hour. And he didn't even give her present to her until Espella and the others encouraged him to just give it.

 _'And it was a lumpy mess.'_

It wasn't how he pictured it going.

He wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Maybe even jump into the witches' pyre in hopes it would burn the embarrassment away.

Eve probably hated him, didn't even wish to speak to him. Oh, he could never show his face to her properly again after that awful present...

"Zacharias."

And speak of the devil.

He froze and turned to see Eve stand before him, her stance tall, her expression unreadable.

And to him, that boded terrible things.

"You ran off without saying a word. Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing is wrong. I simply recalled I had other work to do," he said quickly, his voice nervous, uneven. "I mean there was also the fact my present was barely as nice as the others..."

"I told you that your present was lovely. You should not fret over it." The despair must have been palpable because she released an exasperated sigh. "I actually ran to look for you because I needed to speak to you about something else."

He steeled himself. Here it comes. He expected a tirade, scolding him of the proper stature of eclairs and how his was the sorriest she had ever seen.

Instead. she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his cheek.

.

.

.

.

.

"For the longest time, me too."

.

.

.

.

He blinked. With red cheeks, Eve smiled and walked away.

.

.

.

A beat.

.

.

.

"M-Miss Eve! Wait! What do you mean ' _you too_ ''?! I request clarification!"

* * *

a/n; thanks for reading~


End file.
